


The Butterfly Effect

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Reon is there in spirit, Team Dynamics, a wild semisemi appears!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 03:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standing outside Washijou-san's office, waiting for retribution, Tendou Satori decided it was all Reon's fault.<br/>Cuz if Reon had been there, then none of this would have happened. With Reon around, Satori wouldn't have been tempted to keep his Captain company on the run.<br/>And if that hadn't happened, there was no way in hell he'd have thought about playing hooky with Eita, however tempting he was. </p><p>Nah, it was definitely Reon's fault - his absence akin to a butterfly when it stops flapping its wings, no longer there to keep the air in check.</p><p> </p><p>Alternative Summary:  Remember that run where Ushijima left the rest of Shiratorizawa behind ...  </p><p>Tendou does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by two things: One is a tumblr post from Jess (karasunovolleygays) to which I responded. 
> 
>  
> 
> And the other is the latest chapter (212) and 'Semisemi'

Based on this [tumblr post](http://crollalanzaa.tumblr.com/post/126580025841/karasunovolleygays-ushijima-says-in-chapter-77) and headcanon from Jess and me. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was Reon’s fault, Satori decided as he stood outside Washijou-sensei’s office, waiting for his:

  * Rebuke
  * Detention
  * Yell-in-the-face
  * Two-hundred serves
  * Volleyball to the head
  * All of the above



as a form of punishment. Yeah, definitely Reon’s fault, ‘cause if the big lug had been there, then Satori wouldn’t have thought about goofing off, and he wouldn’t now be slouched against the wall, wearing his ‘i don’t give a fuck face’ whilst the eyes staring back at him looked as bleak and untouchable as ever.

“It’ll be cool, ya know?” he said, breaking the silence and adding a click of his tongue and a smirk.

“No, I don’t know,” his companion said, cool and distant in the way he used to be, the way that had intrigued Satori once upon a time, but now left a dragging feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I’ll own up. It was my idea, after all,” he said, and speared his tooth along the nail of his little finger, digging into the skin to gnaw at the cuticle.

“That might work at the age of five. But not at seventeen.”

“Uh, then I’ll say it weren’t you. It’s a case of mistaken identity.” He tried a wink, but getting nothing in return except a stony stare, he decided against poking his tongue out. “I’m kinda odd looking and unique, but you’re more commonplace. Easy mistake to make.”

“Wow, thanks,” came the grumbled reply.

Quiet and definitely disgruntled, but was that a thaw in the twitch of his lips, and the way his eyes flicked to Satori’s face.

He leapt in with a crooked smile to whisper across the space between them, “You know you’re beautiful when you scowl, Semisemi.”

“Don’t call me that,” his suddenly unsurly companion replied, but now a faint flush had appeared across the bridge of his nose. “Especially don’t call me that in there.”

A pause. Long as both took a couple of breaths. “I mean it, you know. I’ll say I was with someone else.”

For a moment, it looked as if Semi were considering it. His lips had tightened and a faint crease had appeared in his brow, but it was a second at the most. “A bollocking shared is a bollocking halved,” he murmured and flashed Satori his grin. His special grin. The one that made Satori’s insides bubble and float as if he were on a swing being pushed higher and higher.

“Cool,” he managed to reply, disguising the rasping quality of his voice with a cough. “Then what’s our story.”

“Uh ... we don’t have one.”

“We’re doomed, ain’t we?”

“We sure are, Tendou.”

 

***

 

_Three hours earlier._

The horseriding club were out in force. Dressed in their hardhats, jodhpurs, jackets and ties, they were all present and correct as they went through their paces for the Miyagi Gymkhana being held at the end of the month. Satori watched them, marvelling at their balance, but also the self- control at being able to compete when it was this warm. All he’d want to do was lie down in that field - preferably with company - and cool down in the long grass.

“Where is Reon?”

“Huh?” Looking up from the fence he was leaning on, Satori twisted his head around, finding the sun blocked out by an imposing figure looming into view. “Say what, Wakatoshi?”

“Reon. Where is he?  We are starting at four.”

“Oh ... uh ... I think he had ... uh ... No, hold on, that was yesterday. He’s late.”

“I am aware he’s late,” Wakatoshi replied. “I am not aware there is a reason. This is roadwork we’re supposed to be doing.”

“Yeah, I got ya. That’s why we’re all here, right?” He shot Wakatoshi a smile, keeping it in place despite the lack of response. “Hey, Semi-kun, any idea where Reon is?” he shouted, keeping his eyes wide and as guileless as possible.

“Memorial service,” Semi replied, almost without pause. He wandered across to them, taking a position next to Satori propping himself against the fence with his elbows. “He did tell you, Wakatoshi-kun.”

_Gah, he’s good liar._

“I don’t remember.” The frown was back in place, not that Satori thought Wakatoshi didn’t believe Semi, more that he was perplexed this hadn’t been brought to his attention before.  “He didn’t say.”

“It’s shijūkunichi,” Semi continued. “And the relative was distant. But, you know the Reon family. It’s important to honour history.”

There was emphasis on the word honour and again on family. Emphasis that made an almost imperceptible impression on Wakatoshi because he blinked then took a pigeon step back. “Five more minutes. Ensure you’ve stretched,” he called out.

“Nice one,” Satori whispered.

“Pardon?”

“I always find lying to Wakatoshi invokes this terrible instinct in me where I stutter like crazy. It’s like kicking a dog, or pulling a kitten’s tail. I just can’t do it,” Satori explained. “You’re cool, though.”

“I wasn’t lying.”

“Huh?”

“Ohiro’s great aunt died forty nine days ago,” Semi continued. “In April, don’t you remember?”

“Oh, uh, sure...” He trailed off, scanning his mind for any memory of Ohiro being at all distraught, but truly there was nothing. Fuck, have I been that distracted recently?  “Yeah, yeah,” he bluffed, “He wasn’t that cut up about it, but a distant relative ain’t gonna make you weep buckets, right.”

Semi leant forwards. “Exactly,” he replied, and then he rolled his shoulders, shook out his arms, and stepped back to where Soekawa was outlining the route in his calm, if uninspiring, voice.

Normally Satori didn’t mind running. He was fine along a beach, or laps in the gym, even a run round school was well in his comfort zone, but roadwork was where he flagged.  Today it was warm, not hot, but the kind of claggy humidity that seemed to zone in on Satori, flushing his face an unpleasant magenta, and sending his hair into overdrive. It was one thing styling it to look wild, quite another for it to act as if it had a life of his own, defying any attempt he made to look remotely amazing.  

But it wasn’t for sartorial reasons that he was baulking at this particular event, more that he knew how relentless it was gonna be, how Wakatoshi would be determined to go at his own pace, whatever they did, and then Goshiki would likely die in his attempt to keep up. Without Reon around to keep control, it’d be up to Satori to keep the guy in check. No use asking Semi, who’d spend most of the run eyeing Shirabu, determined to beat him.

At least he hoped that was the reason. ‘Cause anything else would be ... _annoying_.

“Ah, fuck, guess I gotta suck it up and go,” he muttered, and edged towards the back of the group, his hands on his hips.

“So, we’re running through the streets,” Jin was saying, “Avoid cobbled walkways. Keep to the side of the road. Your pace should be even.”

“Oh g-reat.” He shuddered, literally, letting his jowls quiver as he thought about it. In their training kits, the Shiratorizawa team stuck out like random doves in a field of crows, easy to pick off amongst the local schools, the schools where kids went home after lessons, and regularly yelled out their disdain. Not that Satori was bothered by that, he’d smile and wave back, but Shirabu always took umbrage, his face tightening and stance taut when he heard the taunts. Then Goshiki would get offended, squeaking out threats that no one could hear, but which upset his stride.

Wakatoshi, of course, would be utterly oblivious to everything once he started to run.

“Anything to add, Ushijima-kun?” Jin asked when he’d finished.

“No.”

“Let’s hear it for the Captain’s fine motivational speech!” Satori yelled, and started to whoop. “C’mon, Wakatoshi-kun, get us pumped!”

“Keep up,” Wakatoshi replied, stretching out his right leg in front of him.

“Feh, I guess that’ll do. S’got Tsutomu wired anyhow.”

 

 

 

“Pound. Pound. Pound.”

Semi looked straight ahead. On his other side, Yamagata gave a faint ‘tsk’ but didn’t offer a comment.

“Pound. Pound. Pound,” Satori repeated, inventing a tune. “My heart’s a’pounding. My feet are a-a- _a_ ching. My lungs are gonna explo – oh - ode.”

Still no reply.

“Who’s gonna clean up this mess on the pavement when that happens?” he demanded. “You, Tsutomu?”

“Huh?” Whipping back, Goshiki, not realising what had been asked of him, just knowing something had been asked, nodded fiercely, his hair flapping over his face. “Yes, Tendou-san. I’ll do it!”

“Bwahahahah!  This kid cracks me up!” He mimed wiping his eyes, and clutching his lungs before continuing to run. “Make sure you collect all my guts. I wanna be intact for the funeral.”

“Um... what?”

“Leave him alone, Tendou,” Semi murmured. His eyes flicked to Goshiki. “He’s kidding. Focus on running.”

“Uh... yeah ... sure. I’ll do that, Semi-san. Right away!”

Heaving in a breath to counteract the snort of laughter escaping from his throat and now through his nose, Satori cackled, then gulped.

_“Hic.”_

Damn it!  Keep my mouth closed

 _Hic!_ His shoulders shook and he was pretty sure his face and contorted one hundred and eighty degrees with the effort it took to keep quiet.

Goshiki had pulled ahead, now alongside Shirabu who eyed him with suspicion.

Temporary aberration _. I’m_ _fine. I’m still cool. I can run and run and -_ “Hic!”

 _Okay, hold my breath._ One... two ... three ... four ... five ... six ... seven ... eight ... _“_ Hic! _”_

 _Oh hell, that wasn’t good._ More of a belch than a hiccup, one that rasped at his larynx, too.

Yamagata laughed. And on his other side, he could see Semi’s lips curving.

“Nothing like a run when everyone’s quiet, don’t you think, Hayato?”

“Fu – _hic-_ ck off, Eita.”

“Just the sound of breathing,” Yamagata continued.

“I am trying - _hic_. Just need to _–hic-_ hold my breath.”

“Good luck with that,” Yamagata replied with a grin.

“Breathing is kind of important,” Semi added. “Especially when running.”

“Hic! DAMN IT!”

“Is something wrong?” Jin bellowed from somewhere at the back.

“Nah. Satori’s got hiccups.”

“You should hold your breath,” Jin advised.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“We could try shocking him,” Goshiki, his ears on stalks, offered.

Leering across at him, Satori waggled his eyebrows. “Like you could sho – _hic_ \- shock me, kouhai.”

“Vinegar.”

“What?” Satori swung round to where Kawanishi was bringing up the rear with Jin.

“Vinegar,” he repeated, sounding solemn. “Swallow it and it stops the hiccups.”

“And you’ve got some vinegar on you, have ya?”

“Uh... no.”

“I could get some!” Goshiki said immediately. I’ll run on ahead and find a cafe and then I’ll meet up with the rest of you and-”

“If anyone – _hic_ \- comes near me with vine – _hic_ \- gar, I’m whacking them into the middle –hic- of next wee- _hic_ -k.”

Goshiki slunk away, squeezing back next to Shirabu, who glowered at him but still let him wriggle back in line.

“Kawanishi, don’t s’pose chocolate ice cream’s any good for hiccups?” Satori moped, twisting his head a little. “Hic!”

“Could be if we pour it down your back,” Semi said. “That could shock you.”

“I’ll go and get some,” Yamagata reposted. “Even pay for it.”

Satori grabbed his arm, dousing the idea before it took hold. Okay, so Hayato was in all likelihood joking, but he knew Semi well enough to know he’d take great delight in shoving ice cream inside his shirt. “No need, they’ve gone now.”

 _“Hic.”_ He swallowed it down, his mouth contorting. From out of the corner of his eye, he could see Semi not even bothering to hide his laughter. And for one who usually took training ‘oh-so-seriously’ he sure was having his fun today.

Satori inhaled, filling his lungs with air, then with grim determination (before another hiccup rent the air) he increased his pace. It was easy barging through the first years. As kouhais, they were used to giving way, but usually they expected a quip or a yell from Satori, and not this silent bullet powering through them. The second years parted easily enough, and he chicaned his way past them all until he reached the front.

And Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi was alone. He was alone because Reon wasn’t there, and it struck Satori at that moment, how they all seemed to run and train in a pattern these days, and how that maybe wasn’t a good thing. Or a fair thing, because Wakatoshi without Ohira was a lonely sight. He was like a figurehead on a ship, proudly cutting through the waves as he powered forwards with his arms. Not that he made any inefficient moves, everything was precise, straight backed and utterly correct. The perfect athlete intent on achieving his goal.

“Hey, Wakatoshi-kun.”

He was acknowledged with a nod and no more.

“Nice day, huh?”

_Hey, I haven’t hiccupped._

“It is a good day for roadwork.”

He blew out of his mouth and up his face. “I prefer it cooler, to be honest.”

“This is better for running.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

No explanation, but an expectation that Satori would accept his words.

Three boys bundled out of a store, sucking on blue and red gari-gari kun.  Satori tried not to drool.

“LOOK!  LOOK, IT’S THE RICH BOYS. NOT OUT ON YOUR HORSES TODAY?”

“Hic.”

_Oh fuck. Dickheads and hiccups._

He stuck his hand up, waving blindly before the situation had any chance to escalate.

“It’s the redhead guy. Yo, Monster, how ya doing?”

_Or is that dickcups and hicheads?_

“Terrific!” he yelled back, or tried, but as he opened his mouth another hiccup belched out of him and he was so taken aback he stumbled forwards, floundering with his arms like a windmill to regain his balance.

“LOOK AT HIM FLYYYYYYYY!” yelled the heckler.

“Fuck you!” Satori yelled back. Then as he righted himself, he blew a flow of kisses their way.

Wakatoshi ran on, barely sparing Satori a glance, the jeers from onlookers, gliding off like water on a duck’s back.

“Nothing bothers you, Wakatoshi, does it?”

“Should something be bothering me?”

“Nope. Just saying.”

“Saying what?”

“That nothing bothers you.”

He breathed in, gingerly testing his diaphragm, but the spasms had gone.

 “You’re calm... always. It’s like most of us need a nemesis, but you ...” Satori chewed the side of his mouth. “Well, you’ve got Oikawa, I guess.”

“Oikawa?”

“Setter guy. Seijou’s finest. Pretty nifty serve and good hair. Gah, I do like his hair. It’s very soft and smooth.” He shot Wakatoshi a sideglance, but even the mention of their nearest rival’s captain hadn’t ruffled him.

“Why would Oikawa Tooru bother me?”

“Why, indeed? Forget I mentioned it.”

“But you did mention it.”

_Aw, shit, now he’s gonna get all dense and demanding._

“Uh ... yeah ... it’s like this. Most of us need a rival to keep us on our toes. And you’re like the most ‘on your toes’ person I know, but you don’t have that person you’re competing against.”

“I want to be the best.”

“So simple, and yet so true, Wakatoshi-kun.” Satori sighed. “And you’re in the right place. We’re the strongest team.”

“Of course.”

Again so deadpan. But a hint underneath, like a threat: Shiratorizawa were strong _because_ he was there.

“Do you actually like running with us, Wakatoshi?”

“Running makes us stronger.”

“Well, yeah, I guess, but you’d do this anyway, right? Whether the rest of us were here or not.”

“I do run alone,” he said, adding, “Or with Reon.”

“Mmm, that’s what I thought.” Satori loped forwards a bit, stretching out his stride so, momentarily, he was in front of Wakatoshi. His shirt was starting to stick to his skin; he could feel sweat beading on his brow. Of course, this wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sensation, but sweating in a game was worth the discomfort. The game was all, but the journey getting there – for Satori – needed to be livened up.

“Want us to speed up?”

“Pardon?”

“You ain’t being stretched. Would ya like me to get us all moving? Give you a bit more of a workout.”

“I am working at the pace I require.”

I require... _I_ require.

“Yeah, you’re looking comfortable,” Satori replied, letting his words hover for a while in the air between.

Wakatoshi’s expression didn’t change; Satori hadn’t expected it to, but there was a difference to his stride, his feet planting just a little more firmly on the tarmac road as his shoulders hunched forwards.

And of course, if Wakatoshi sped up, he’d expect the rest of them to follow.

 _Cuz that’s what we do_.

Reon could stop him. Reon would keep the pace steady because he’d have figured with a college match happening later that evening, going hell for leather on these roads wasn’t a great idea for the team. Satori didn’t think much of the idea either, but he’d suggested it now – the genie was outside the bottle - and even though Wakatoshi looked stoic as always, he wasn’t going to be tempered, not by anyone currently here, especially not now Goshiki was snapping at his heels.  For although Wakatoshi wouldn’t admit it, having a wannabe ace jumping up and down after attention both flattered and got him a _leeeeeetle_ riled. Satori could tell by the way his eyelid would twitch when Goshiki approached for advice, his feet crooked inwards and fingers tapping out ‘notice me, senpai’.

“Oh-kay ... I’m gonna hang back now, check the others,” Satori said, slowing until he was swallowed up by the mass of first years converging.

“Hiccups gone?” Semi asked.

“All cool.”

“Town kids shocked them out of you.”

“Who them?  Nah, they love me really.”

“Shirabu-kun reacted.  He wanted to murder several of them.”

“And you stopped him?”

“I did,” Semi replied, then clicked his tongue. The meaning implicit – Don’t say a word.

“Where’s Hayato?” he huffed, beginning to feel a burn in his lungs which could only mean Wakatoshi had decided to speed up.

“With the Liberos.”

“You gonna run with the Setters?”

Snorting, Semi looked down at the ground. His hair curtained across his face, hiding whatever expression he’d pulled, and the words when they came were neutral, bland even. “Maybe that should be the Pinch Servers.”

“Nah,” Satori snapped back, quick as a flick, “You need to stick with the third years.”

“I could drop back with Jin, you’re right.”

“Someone who can hold your attention,” Satori muttered, quirking his eyebrow.

“You, huh?”

“Me, yeah.”

And then Semi turned, and his eyelids, his heavy, slanted eyelids, blinked very slowly. “You certainly do that,” he murmured, so softly Satori would have missed it, except that two years spent in training with this guy, where they’d continually mutter asides, had attuned his hearing to the extent it was practically thought transference by now.

He’d never felt less in the mood for training.

“Wanna skive off?”

“Thought you’d never ask. But how?”

“I kinda mighta primed a grenade,” Satori muttered. “All we need t’ do now, is pull the pin and – HEY, TSUTOMU!”

“Tendou-san?” His eager face twisted right around, and he dropped his pace a little, attention and deference given to his senpai.

“You think you can go faster?”

“Um.”

“What are you doing? I thought we wanted to skive off, not do more work,” Semi hissed.

“Trust me, Eita. This is the pin.”

“Kawanishi,” he shot behind him.

“Tendou-san.” No question, and precious little deference, either.

“Think you can keep up.”

“Of course.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Semi demanded in undertone, plucking Satori’s sleeve.

Minutely shifting his head, so his lips were close to Semi’s ear. “Wakatoshi needs a bit of pressure, don’t ya think?”

“What?”

“Fire Tsutomu and Kawanishi at him, and what’s he gonna do.”

“Speed up.”

“Yup.”

Flicking Satori on the head, Semi pursed his lips. “But they will as well, and then we’ll all have to. You have not thought this one through.”

“No, what I’ve calculated-”

“Guessed, you mean.”

“Same difference. What I figure is that on their own, they won’t fire him up much, but add in that little shit ...” He jerked his head towards Shirabu, and was rewarded when Semi smiled.

“Wakatoshi is going to sprint, isn’t he?”

“Mmmhmmm.” He gave a grin.  “Grudge boy’s gonna start moaning about the onlookers. You know what he’s like about his ‘hey I got here through hard work’ stance.”

“And Waka-kun hates distractions, even if he refuses to believe they’re there.”

“Got it in one.”

“So, how do we pull this off?”

“Ah ...”

 

It was a minute, perhaps, later when Semi made his strike. As the fastest of them, it was only he who could realistically force Wakatoshi into a short challenge. And as soon as he moved, Shirabu, who always had his eye on Semi, predictably reacted by kicking up his heels.

Watching, Satori increased his pace, gauging just the right moment to tow Kawanishi in his wake, and also to push Goshiki onwards.

“I’m sure you’d hate to be the last kouhai back, amiright?” Satori muttered, nudging his elbow.

“I will be first!” Goshiki retorted, sticking his chest out as if on parade. “You just watch me, Tendou-senpai.”

“Yeah, be kinda nice to see a first year get back home,” Satori said, and sighed. “You remind me a lot of me, you know that, Tsutomu?”

Was that horror on his face?   _Little fuck!_

“Do I?”

Resisting the urge to punch the shock off Goshiki’s face, Satori smiled instead.  “The eagerness. The speed. Wanting to win. I mean, obviously you play much more like Waka-chan up there, but ... uh ... yeah ... you got some o’ the old monster in you, I reckon.” He frowned. “Cheer up. That’s a good thing!”

“WHERE ARE YOUR HORSES, RICH BOYS?”

Screwing up his face until it was purple, Goshiki began to mutter insults out of the side of his mouth. Uncreative insults, too, Satori thought, consisting of punches or throwing volleyballs at them. Up ahead, Shirabu’s mouth was moving nineteen to the dozen, and it didn’t take an expert lipreader to make out the word ‘shit’ and how he was going to serve it up to them.

And then, as Kawanishi caught up, Satori took his chance.

“Yoo-hoo, boys,” he yelled at the locals. “Gonna join us?”

“What are you doing?” yelled Hayato from the other side of the pack.

Ignoring him, Satori leapt in the air, star jumping his arms and then proceeded to blow kisses at a group of younger boys, clumped together in their dislike of Shiratorizawa and the elitism it represented in their minds.

As the yelling increased, the Shiratorizawa runners grouped closer together, but Satori, now peering through to the front grinned. Shirabu had caught up to Semi and Wakatoshi. Goshiki had started to make his move, and Kawanishi was grumbling.

“ELITE SCHOOLS EAT SHIT!” yelled a kid from the pavement.

“ASSHOLE!” Shirabu shouted back.

Satori doubted Wakatoshi needed a nudge after that, but with Semi at his side, the pair of them suddenly put in a massive spurt of speed, leaving the other three trailing in their wake, and just as Goshiki started to accelerate, Satori shot right up to them, and tugged on his shirt.

“Don’t wear yourself out, Tsutomu-kun. They’ll slow soon, and then where will you be if you’re breathless and dying at the side of the road.”

“YO YO MONSTER, You lost your leaderrrrrr!”

“No,” he yelled back at their taunters, and then with an almost balletic leap, Satori gained the front position. “THEY HAVE MEEEEEEEE.”

There was a collective shake of heads from the trio, united in their continual embarrassment of their senpai, so Satori played on that, slowing the pace, just a little, and bursting into song.

“Pound. Pound. Pound!” he improvised.  “My heart’s a thumping in my chest. Pound. Pound. Pound!”

“Give it a rest, Satori!” Hayato cried.

“My singing is beautifulllll,” he trilled.

“It’s setting my teeth on edge.”

They were approaching a corner, the leading pair had just rounded it, still at their furious pace as Satori began to leap, dragging the attention to him to disguise the fact that he’d slowed them all.

_It’s up to you now, Eita._

A figure had slowed at a signpost. Satori didn’t show by even a blink how much his insides writhed in glee.

“Is that Semi-san?”

“Can’t be, Goshiki, he’s in the wrong road,” Kawanishi replied.

“No, it _is_ him!” Shirabu retorted.

“So it is,” Satori said, not daring to flick his eyes towards the fork in the road, keeping his eyes firmly on Semi. “Why are you here, Semi-kun? Thought we were going that way.”

His hands on his knees, pink faced and gasping, Semi lifted his face up. “Change of plan. There’s ... uh ... road works down that way, so Ushijima-san and I decided we’d be better off down this route. I ... uh ... said I’d wait for you all... need a break ... wow, I really don’t have the stamina of a guy like you, Shirabu-kun.”

_Oh, nicely done. Appeal to the guy’s vanity!_

“So we’re going this way now,” Jin asked. He didn’t frown or question Semi’s words, and the others fell into line, probably already realising it was a shorter route back to school.

“Yeah,” Semi wheezed. “You lot go on. I’ve got a stitch.”

“Think I kinda twisted my ankle, I’ll wait with ya,” Satori said.

“All that leaping around,” he heard Kawanishi mutter to Shirabu, who raised his eyebrows.

“And he didn’t do a proper warm up before we set out,” Shirabu hissed. “No wonder he’s pulled something.”

Only the thought that he was now ending this fucking awful training run, and he’d soon be relaxing somewhere with Semi, stopped him from launching high kicks at the pair of them. He felt an arm on his shoulder, fingers squeezing down, calm and measured, and then a slight caress as – unseen - Semi’s thumb made contact with the nape of his neck.

“You go on. Wakatoshi’s in his groove now, but I’m sure you can catch up. Tendou and I will keep to the back.”

And although Hayato was gazing at the pair of them with suspicion, he shrugged, not actually that bothered by their shenanigans and set off with the others.

“So, fancy finding a cafe?” Satori suggested. “Your treat, naturally.”

“Why mine?”

“Cuz this was all my idea and ... uh ... I got no money.”

Snorting, Semi thumped him on the back. He’d recovered his breath remarkably quickly for someone who’d apparently sped down two roads and back to the fork to wait for them all.

“What did ya tell Waka-chan?”

“Uh, nothing really. Said I needed to slow down. He nodded.”

“And carried on. Sometimes I don’t think he registers we’re here at all.”

 Semi laughed, rocking back on his heels and treating Satori to his best and widest smile.  “He’ll register soon enough when Goshiki’s waiting for him on the steps of the gym.”

“Unless he gets distracted.”

“Like that will happen.” Semi pressed his lips softly together, and peered up at Satori from under the black-tipped fronds of hair hanging over his forehead. “Talking of distraction...”

His mouth went dry, and suddenly he wasn’t thinking about coffee in cafe, nibbling on biscuits. He wasn’t thinking about the run, or whether they should continue of their way. Satori wasn’t even thinking about chocolate ice cream and cooling off with iced water.

“What do you have in mind?” he rasped.

With another smile, the sort of smile that meant Eita was pleased that he’d had got Satori in such a fluster,  he leant across. “This road... there’s a small shop. And a field. With trees. Pretty much hidden from view of anyone walking past. Or runners trying to find anyone that might have dropped behind or gone the wrong way.”

His hand was on Satori’s arm, his fingers splaying around him, and his tongue was sliding across his petal pink lower lip.

“Fuck, he’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Jeez, I said that out loud, didn’t I? I’m such a dumbass. ”

“You did. I still thank you. And you’re not dumb at all, Satori-kun,” Semi replied, pulling him closer. “Sneaky, resourceful...” His mouth touched Satori’s earlobe. He stopped to nuzzle, not pulling away when an odd sound emerged from Satori’s throat. “Hot ... even with hiccups.”

“Fu- _hic_ -ck! Se-Semi, what you doing to me?”

“Se-Semi?” he teased, his breath hot on Satori’s neck.

“SemiSemi,” Satori retorted, gaining one small step of ascendency when Eita narrowed his eyes. “Semimi. Semi-Semi. SEMMMMIIIIIIIIIIMMMIIIIII.”

“Come on,” Semi ordered, grabbing his hand. “Let’s get to that shop. I’ll buy you water, ice cream and vinegar. Anything to shut you up.”

“Hic!”

 

***

Washijou had still not summoned them into his enclave, but both knew they were in the shit. Whether they’d been seen outside school, or the rest of the team arriving back at the school before them and Wakatoshi had been enough for Washijou to put it all together, Satori had no idea. But ready with their stories of exhaustion and not wanting to strain his ankle before a practise match, the pair of them had arrived back at Shiratorizawa in time for food and a message brought to them by Goshiki that they were to wait outside the Coach’s office before they ate anything.

“My hiccups have gone,” Satori said after another ten minutes of waiting.

“I doubt we can use that as a cover story.”

“You could say you were giving me mouth to mouth,” Satori suggested. “I mean we don’t even know if anyone saw us. That field was pretty deserted.”

“Do you think Shirabu squealed on us?”

Considering, Satori scrunched up his nose before shaking his head. “Naw, he ain’t a bad kid, you know. I mean he clearly ain’t in your class, Eita-kun, but he won’t want to upset the team.” He squared his shoulders. “Look, if it’s about the change of route, then I’ll tell Coach it was all down to me. I’ll spin some crap about the locals, and wanting to avoid that route. Not far from the truth.”

“No.” Exhaling long and slow, Semi tipped his head back on the wall, staring up at the ceiling. “I’ll take the blame. He’ll feel obliged to drop you for a game, and that’s not good preparation for the team.”

“Yeah, but it is my fault.”

“Both our faults,” Semi murmured. “I do have a mind of my own.”

Just then, the door opened. Satori wasn’t sure how Washijou-sensei had managed this trick, because he was sat in his chair, facing them as they stared in. Instinctively, Satori checked the door handle, wondering if there was a thread attached that Washijou tugged, but he could see nothing.

“Thank you, Soekawa-kun,” the Coach said, dismissing their vice captain. “Get back to practise now.”

_Hell, of course he’ll question the others. And Reliable-kun is shite at lying. He’ll have told him everything, in as excruciatingly boring detail as possible._

At his side, Semi had paled and his right hand was shaking, but he took the proffered seat and stared dead ahead at Washijou, not flinching. Sitting next to him, Satori fixed an apologetic but ‘will try harder’  expression on his face, and waited.

“Your run this afternoon,” Washijou began.

“Yeah, about that...” Satori began, hushing when Washijou raised his hand.

“I understand Wakatoshi-kun went on ahead.” He got to his feet and wandered across to the window. “I am not blaming him. I am not blaming you. He needs to be stretched, but next time, Tendou... _next_ time, Semi, if Reon-kun cannot be with you, then please ensure one of you stays with him the entire time”

“Uh ...”

_Whoa, have we got away with this?_

He didn’t dare look at Semi, but he heard the catch at the back of his throat before Semi spoke.

“Wakatoshi isn’t injured, I hope.”

“Not at all,” Washijou replied, his voice implying that if injury had been the case then the pair in front of him would have been walloped into next week and packed out of Shiratorizawa harder than an Ushiwaka spike.

“Then ... uh ... what’s happened?”

“He let a couple of local boys into the school to show them the gymnasiums,” Washijou replied, and frowned so deep his eyes seemed to disappear under his forehead.

“He did?” Satori blinked rapidly, unable to control his eyebrows, which had now lodged themselves right up to his hairline.

“I’m sure he didn’t think there was any harm in it,” Semi replied, sounding smooth. “Maybe he thought it would be an aspiration for them.”

Satori gaped at him, wondering how he could sound so calm, when this action from Wakatoshi was _so_ out of keeping.

“He did not think at all,” Washijou continued. “It is unacceptable and the headmaster wants answers, especially as the interlopers were seen shouting at the horses.”

“Oh.”

“If Shiratorizawa’s chances in the Miyagi Gymkhana have been compromised because of Ushijima’s actions and two idiot boys, then who knows what this could herald.”

“Ah, it won’t come to that. Those guys are good,” Satori breezed and risked a smile.

“It had better not, Tendou-kun,” Washijou said coldly. “ _Nothing_ must interfere with our preparation. Nothing at all. The butterfly effect can cause a distortion, however slight, that we do not need.”

Gulping, he felt something swell in him, and tried to swallow it down because there was no doubt in his mind that their coach would take a very dim view of Satori’s inability to control himself.

“Hic!” _Dammit! Why now?_  “Uh...” he continued, thinking quickly. “I mean ... uh ... it was a hiccup in our preparation, but it won’t be repeated, Washijou-sensei!”

He bowed quickly, refusing to look at Semi, whose shoulders were shaking.

 

 _Hiccups and butterflies,_ Satori thought later that night, when they’d assembled in the small common room they shared.   _They affect us all._

Wakatoshi slumped in a chair was staring not at his volleyball magazine but the wall in front of him. Yamagata was chiding Eita to spill exactly where he’d got to on the run, while Satori had missed out on chocolate ice-cream, having arrived too late for dinner.  

_And whichever way you look at it, it’s all Reon’s fault._

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to write this last August, but the last chapter gave me the final push to get it written. Hope you enjoyed it!


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